


Broken

by consulting_superwholockian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Chick-Flick Moments, Dark, Feelings, HAPPY ENDING DONT WORRY GYS, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sappy!Dean, angel!cas - Freeform, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consulting_superwholockian/pseuds/consulting_superwholockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stop," Dean whispered, not even cursing himself for sounding so pained, so weak.<br/>So broken.<br/>"Only if you say-"<br/>"Yes." </p><p>This is the story of how Dean Winchester fell, only for Castiel to pick him back up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and you viewers are always appreciated :).

The chains ran tighter around his neck as they closed in on him.

Not a day passed did this exact event not take place- never, never, never…

Slice.

The first cut digs deep into his chest, but this time, he doesn't even cry out. Instead, he tilted his head back, taking it. Cut after cut after cut raked his body, maybe even a few bullet holes or two if he isn't mistaken. Not to mention, his own beating heart was being waved right in front of his blood splattered face.

The righteous man no longer felt nausea, pain, fear. He felt… numb.

"Put 'im back together, boys," the man, Lucifer's henchman himself, called. In no less than five seconds was he back to where he started- whole yet simultaneously broken. 

The torturer walked forward. "Hello, Dean! How ya doin' on this fine day?"

He didn't speak.

"I said," the man, _no, demon,_ grabbed his collar. "how are you doing today?"

He sighed, feeling exhausted. The constant torture and torment was enough, but now this? How was he supposed to answer? Surely he would be punished if he were to spit in his face as he wished, followed by a "No, you sick son of a bitch. I'm not." However, he certainly wasn't about to say, "Yes, of course, Alastair." Not like one of those demons; they're quite the submissive bitches.

"Answer me. Now." His grip tightens as the demon's sickly humid breath ghosts across the Winchester's face.

"I'm feeling the usual. Still daydreaming about the day I get out of this twisted shithole." Whoops.

"It seems you need more, convincing, don't you? I mean, it's only been thirty years." The… _thing_ pointed the tip of his blade at the human's heart, slowly pressing in.

This was always his breaking point. This is when he felt pain, and the numbness subsided. It always hurt when this son-of-a-bitch did this to him- it was too personal. 

"Stop," Dean whispered, not even cursing himself for sounding so pained, so weak.

So broken.

"Only if you say-"

"Yes." 

He had no regrets when he finally gave in. None at all. He was no longer Dean Winchester, savior of Earth alongside his equally noble, yet different brother. He was Dean Winchester: Tortured, Broken, and _Done._ Immediately his pain subsided. Alastair's grin grew in enormous size. "Finally."

That's how Dean Winchester found himself with a blade in his hands, torturing souls with a grin on his face and enjoying it for the next ten years.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was during one of the thousands of tortures he had directed that something hit him. It was strange, too. All the Winchester had felt was happiness, joy, and contentment for the past ten years. He couldn't deny it, and he didn't want to: it was so, _so_ fun torturing these innocent souls. Watching them either give in, or watching their faces as blood splurged out of their bodies.

Today, though, was strange. 

A man laid on the table Dean usually "operated" on. A few cuts here and there, some internal organs over there, and Dean just… stopped.

Suddenly, he felt more terrified than he ever had in a long time.

The man was a nearly accurate representation of his almost forgotten brother, Sam.  He had the same shaggy hair, the flannel, everything. It wasn't him, but it was close enough to make him stop and back away. 

His fellow demons, _slaves dare he call them_ , turned to him, confused.

Confusion- an emotion too human for him to deal with at this time.

"What have I…" he began. He dropped his weapons while he continued to back up.

Then he ran.

He ran, he ran, he ran. 

And for the first time in forty years, he prayed. 

He prayed for is safety. He prayed for Sam's safety. He knew he didn't deserve, not at all, but he prayed with the last bit of righteousness he had. 

Behind him, the _things_ were chasing after him, Alastair leading. 

This was not apart of Alastair's plan. Dean Winchester was never supposed to revert back to this.

Still, Dean ran. Ran, and ran, and ran, past the howling, pained souls, past the laughing demons, and _ran_. 

He finally stopped only when he saw something so beautiful that he had no other choice. 

A light as brilliant, if not more, as the sun shined down around him, engulfing him. He smiled as it swirled about him. He smiled as he turned around, looking at the angry, shocked faces of the demons who had once hurt him and made him _this._

It didn't even shock him when he heard the light _speak,_ "Dean Winchester is saved."

 


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean awoke, he noticed he was still in Hell, just… far away. Some unused corner of Hell. In front of him sat a man.

"Hello," he said, sounding uncertain.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, grabbing a nearby weapon.

"Castiel. Angel of the Lord."

"Bullshit."

"I promise I am not "bullshitting" you, Dean Winches-"

Before the "Angel of the Lord" could finish, Dean plunged his blade into him. With a quiet sigh, Castiel slipped it out and reached up to his chest to heal himself. Dean froze, a look of shock evident on his face. 

"That was very unnecessary," the angel finished.

"What- how?"

"I understand you have many questions. They will all be answered, just… not at current."

"What do you mean- ouch!" Without warning, a stinging sensation fluttered through his shoulder, then left abruptly as it appeared. 

"Oh. I apologize, I may have-" Before the angel could finish, Dean lifted up his battered shirt sleeve, revealing a handprint.

"What the hell is this, Cas?!" Dean yelled, unintentionally shortening the name.

"My name is Castiel."

"Too big of a mouthful- now answer the question!" 

"I would be more respectful, if I were in your position," he said, squinting his eyes in frustration. As he looked at the handprint on Dean's shoulder, his expression went from annoyed to genuinely surprised. "The handprint on your shoulder was… unintentional. When I finally rescued you from your place in Hell and gripped you, it must have formed."

"What do you mean, finally?"

Castiel sighed, clearly not used to this much conversation at once. "It has taken me years to rescue you. When you prayed, it seemed to have given me the last bit of strength to finally reach you."

Dean was normally better at physically hiding his emotions, but he couldn't help the  drop of his jaw. "You have been trying for years to come get me?"

The angel nodded. "After I rebuilt your body physically on Earth, yes."

"Why me?"

"It wasn't your time to go. You have a lot ahead of you, Dean Winchester."

"Dude, please just call me Dean."

Castiel nods again. "Alright, Dean."

"I'm still confused, though," the Winchester pressed on, changing the subject back to the handprint. "Why did it form? Does this always happen when angels rescue humans?" .

"Hardly. Angels haven't, at least during my existence, rescued humans from hell until now. You were a special occurrence. It formed because… I'm not sure."

"If I am correct, lying is a sin, and you suck at it big time, Pinocchio." 

"Everything in this place is sin. It must be affecting me."

For some unknown reason, those two sentences _flooded_ Dean with emotion. He knows  for a fact that this place affects everyone when it comes to sin. Guilt seeps into him, as do his old memories. 

So much guilt. 

How could he have tortured those souls, innocent souls, souls he used to save, and enjoyed it? How could he have succumbed into becoming a maniac killer? He did not deserve to be saved. He deserved to stay right here, where he belonged. 

"Please, stop thinking so much."

The human paused. "Don't tell me you can't read minds."

"Then I won't tell you that I can read minds."

Dean sighs, knowing again that the angel is lying, and buries his head in his hands. "Never mind; stop lying. Why am I feeling all these things, Cas? And seriously, what is up with the handprint? Please, just tell me." He registers that his voice is cracking, but he no longer cares. Fuck no chick flick moments.

"I… I had to rebuild you. I found this place, which is temporarily safe, and did so, which required you to be asleep. I had to restore your injuries that were dealt to you physically and mentally. Your emotions may come into play more so than usual. Do not worry. You have been made pure once more."

"No. I'm not. I ruined those people out there-"

"All is forgiven. As for your handprint…" Castiel's lips twitch. "I… it means that…"

"C'mon. You can spit it out," Dean sighs, quickly beginning to compose himself.

"All in time, Dean," Castiel finishes. He knows that he cannot yet tell Dean. Not yet, but certainly in the future. He is certain that their paths cross in the near future- he has seen it. For now, Castiel is certain that Dean would not currently be comfortable knowing that that handprint entails so much.

That Dean is his mate.

Shaking his head, Castiel continues speaking, saying, "I wish I could explain to you more, but we have so little time and it wouldn't matter anyways. You won't remember this account."

Wait a minute. "You mean I won't remember this whole conversation?"

"No. You will not."

"Why not?" Dean was confused once more, this time at his defensiveness. He just met this gu- angel. Yeah, he rescued him, but why does he care that much?

Okay, that was a stupid question.

"It's complicated."

"Seriously? Can't I just get a straight fucking answer?"

"They are my superior's rules. If it were up to me, I would tell you."

"Then don't!"

"You have no idea who you're dealing with, do you? Angels, archangels? Do you not understand?" 

"I understand, it's just that you've got some shit rules flying around what, Heaven?" 

"Yes, Heaven. Listen, Dean, trust me when I say we will meet again. I promise."

With those words, Dean breaks again. His emotions are everywhere- what is he, on guy period? 

"I'll miss you," he says, against his own will. What's going on with him? Castiel's eyes widen. 

"What?"

The handprint on Dean's arm begins to tingle, and before he knows it, his lips are pressed to the angel's lips. Moments later, Dean pulls back, eyes wide. He is shocked with himself. "I… what the fuck? I don't know why I did that… I… thanks for rescuing me?"

Castiel grins, and Dean feels like his whole world just lit up. The angel chastely kisses Dean's forehead. The angel himself had never felt anything like this. Soon enough, however, Castiel's smile fades. "I'm so sorry I have to do this. I don't want to, but… we will meet soon. I will make sure of it." Before Dean has anytime to react, Castiel uses two fingers to press against the man's forehead, and he's gone.

~

Dean wakes up, his last memory being basked in some light. Without thoughts such as  "how did I even get here", he lights a match, gets out of his coffin, and heads for water. 

Meanwhile, Castiel sat up back in Heaven, smiling down at the human. He was happy- oh so, happy- that he had found his mate, accidentally or not. Even after trial and tribulation which got him back to Dean in that abandoned warehouse, he couldn't help but smirk as Dean plunged that knife into his chest, only for the angel to pull it out once more.

 


End file.
